For all those moments
by DeUtvalda
Summary: This is the story of when a clueless boy bumped into a thoughtful girl with an 'oof' and a 'thump' on the bustling streets of a port town called Hargeon. He was Natsu, she was Lucy, and could she buy him something to eat make up for it?


They meet for the first time on the bustling streets of a small port-town called Hargeon.

Sunlight and a soft sea breeze sweep through the cobblestone streets lined by quaint, two-story houses when a clueless boy bumps into a thoughtful girl with an 'oof' and a 'thump.' He grins, removing her red face from his chest and asking if she is okay. She frowns, looking away and answering that she's fine, thank you, and sorry for walking into him. It's okay, he tells her. He is Natsu. She is Lucy, and can she buy him something to eat to make up for it?

..

In a small restaurant serving what's according to Natsu the best food in town, a grinning boy and a smiling girl get a seat where they can feel the wind in their hair and see the smooth waves of the ocean. Small ripples across the water's surface shimmer with dancing spots of white-gold sunlight, almost as if someone has ridden across the blue sky scattering the insides of a giant glitter jar. Their eyes squint, green and brown, when the reflections catch them. Is she sure about this, he asks for what seems to her like the thousandth time. Yes, is her thousandth reply, she can afford it and anyway, she owes him that much. (He doesn't think she owes him anything at all, but keeps quiet.) He orders more food than she cares to count, shoveling it down in mere minutes. Her meal of iced tea and a chicken sandwich is only halfway finished when he lets out a content sigh, eyeing her plate inquisitively and wondering what's taking so long. She looks like she likes to eat, after all. Her cheeks turn red with anger and embarrassment, fists clenching threateningly as she glares.

She's really quite pretty, he thinks quietly when she's calmed down a bit, with those big, brown eyes and blond hair and penchant for blushing when he says or does something even slightly sexual, like leaning a bit to close or brushing her hand with his as they walked to the restaurant. It seems like she knows it, though, judging by how the size of her skirt and tightness of her blue/white top draw attention to her curvy figure and long legs. But she's nice, too, and smart, and generous with her offer to pay for his abnormally huge lunch.

He's actually good looking, she realizes when the red haze has toned down to a more pinkish hue, his too-big-for-his-face grin and sharp incisors giving off a boyish vibe while the abs peeking out from between a half-unbuttoned vest and a scale-like scarf tell an entirely different story. The large backpack he carries speaks of travel and adventure, something her sheltered life has always dangled mockingly just out of reach. He seems to be the complete opposite of her, rugged and cheerful and _free_.

...

He is looking for someone, he explains later on, lying on the grass beneath one of the park's many trees while she sits beside him, the two of them shaded by the thick canopy of leaves above. It is well into the afternoon now, the sun dipping closer to the rooftops with each passing minute. The scents of freshly mowed grass and chocolate ice cream surround them, along with that unexplainable smell of _summer_ carried across the wind, heated rock and slight decay. She looks down at him, then away, to two little kids laughing and playing tag holding a red and green balloon in each of their miniscule fists. Who is he looking for, she wonders, and he tells her he's looking for a dragon. She smiles. He grins that goofy grin again. They both watch the balloons for a second as they float through the air, nothing tethering them but those two tiny hands. What about her, then? Her head gives a small shake. It's nothing important. He still wants to know, but understands her unwillingness to tell, so instead he explains to her about the crippling motion sickness he has suffered from since he was little, and the complications that have arisen because of that this summer of travelling around Fiore.

Her laugh is short but sweet, and the wind steals it from her lips much sooner than he wants it to.

…

They part for the first time by the harbor of a small town called Hargeon.

The sun's path across the sky has cut all the way to the edge of the horizon, its blazing eye going from golden orange to deep red and staining the sky with a fiery glow that subsides into soft pink hues and pastel green the further away it gets. It shimmers like the air on a hot day, like an ocean reflecting the colors of sunset. A couple, a boy and a girl, sits on the edge of the world, legs dangling a few meters above the water's surface, their hair yellow and pink like the sky, individual strands fluttering and shining with a thousand different shades of light. The boy grins, playfully shoving the girl's shoulder, letting out a barking laugh that's swallowed up by the empty streets when she punches his arm in retaliation. Hey, the girl exclaims as he chuckles. She could have fallen into the water. He informs her that he is sure she can swim. Another punch, followed by an expression he has come to know dearly these last few hours: a peculiar mix of exasperation, amusement, and feigned indifference. A smile. She shivers slightly; the day's been hot, but here there is nothing to block the seaside wind. She whines to him about it, but he just tells her she should have worn something more than underwear.

Then he unwinds the scarf from his neck and puts it around hers, just for a second. The fabric is soft, almost unnaturally so, and her cheeks once again go pink. She looks strange, he thinks, dwarfed by the white of his beloved scarf, red where her face peeks out.

Strange, and strangely kind of pretty.

He takes it back soon, though. It is too precious to him, and he tells her that, tells her that Igneel gave it to him, Igneel whom he is searching for. Igneel the dragon, she asks teasingly. Igneel the dragon, he confirms with a straight face. Why is she here, though? Again. A faraway smile. She is here because she is. Maybe it was fate, she says, turning to him and looking through long lashes into curious eyes. Eyes that close as he leans forward and they share a fleeting kiss, one that is over so fast not even the wind can blow it away.

The sun disappears beneath the ocean waves, and a girl and a boy part for the first time.

…

The next day, he is gone, and so is she.


End file.
